Ring Around the Boyfriends
by aaliona
Summary: For the challenge of the same name by ToManyLetters. Hermione is suffering from a case of ring around the boyfriends. Whom is she ringing around and how shall she cope? Related M for blatent references to sex. No lemons
1. First

**Note to self: You should be working on _Hogwarts United_ or _Truth or Dare_. I couldn't resist this challenge though. This will be a five part story for "Ring Around the Boyfriends" by ToManyLetters. The name of the chapter will be the prompt associated with it. And now... for part one.**

They say you never get over your first. First what? First love? First crush? First time? My first time wasn't a crush, and it certainly wasn't love. In fact, I hardly knew him. Before our sixth year, I believe Justin Finch-Fletchley and I had said maybe ten words total directly to the other, including all our time in Dumbledore's Army. I know, really romantic.

Neither of us were thinking straight. Voldemort had returned, and tensions were high. Harry was having secret lessons with Dumbledore, but I didn't have much faith in them. It seemed like we were just wasting time. I've never liked wasting time.

Usually, I made the most of my time doing homework; however, one can only do homework for so long. Besides, I couldn't think properly with a quill in my hand and an essay on an entirely different subject. My thinking space was far from the library.

...

"Oh, hello! I didn't know anyone else was here."

I craned my neck around and saw a familiar face from Hufflepuff. "Justin, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "And you're Hermione of course," he said matter-of-factually. "Fancy us having the same thought. It wouldn't have let me in otherwise."

"I guess everyone needs a place to think these days," I sighed, staring into the fire.

I spent a lot of my time in here, especially when the boys were at Quidditch practice. Most of my pondering focused on the future. I wondered whether I'd make as far as graduation with a war on the horizon, whether Harry was right about Draco Malfoy being some kind of junior Death Eater, and even whether Ron Weasley cared for me as more than a friend.

Justin stepped closer. "Mind if I have a seat?" he asked, motioning to the couch I was currently sitting on.

I motioned that he could and he sat. After a few moments of silence, Justin sighed. "I actually had an alternate reason for coming here," he confessed as he withdrew a firewhiskey from his cloak pocket. "Being a prefect and all, you're probably required to confiscate it, aren't you."

He watches me closely as I ponder what to do next. He's right; it's my job as a prefect to remove and report any alcohol that comes within my sight. Still, it couldn't have been easy to get it past Filch and the sensors. My decision made, I pull out my wand and conjure up two glasses to set on the coffee table before us. "I won't take it," I say to his relief, "but I'm feeling a little under the weather so I'm afraid you'll have to share it."

Justin did so gladly and soon, we were a right bit drunk. "It scares me," he confessed in a hideous slir. "Ev'ybody's actin like we's all gonna die tomorrow. I don' like it."

"Maybe we are gonna die tomorrow!" I shrieked. "We all gonna die and be gone and there won't be anybody lef'! We godda do somefin'!"

He hiccuped. "What e'sactly do you got in mind?" he asked.

I raised myself up as high as I could without standing up (thankfully having the sense to set my glass down) and raised my arms. "We godda!... I don' know," I admitted, deflating and collapsing onto Justin.

"'Least we got each o'er," he pointed out cheerfully.

I wiggled around, threw my arms around his neck, and drew him into a wet, sloppy kiss. "We got each othzer," I echoed. "I don' wanna die awone! Stay wiff me!"

He gave me an equally sloppy kiss in return. "It's like dat one muggle mo'ie! 'We'll do it fo' our countwy!'"

"Hey!" I squeaked. "I think I saw dat one! It was a 'Merican movie."

"Yeah, dat one!" he agreed in drunken happiness. His face turned serious. "They sang a song, bu' I don' 'member wha' happens next."

"I guess they do it," I concluded in all seriousness.

"You wanna do it?" he asked, in equal stony exterior.

I nodded, "We should do it."

...

I'd just like to point out that "it" is not what happens next in that movie, but it happened next to us. Justin and I had sex and, excuse my language, the next morning hurt like a bitch. I was in pain from my hangover and from losing my virginity, and all I remember is a whole lot of pain.

Justin and I couldn't look at each other for a week. When we finally broached the subject, it was agreed to put it all behind us. Neither of us meant for it. Neither of us wanted it. I'm assuming neither of us liked it.

It was best to forget it... and figure out a story to explain away my loss of virginity to Ron if we ever got that far.


	2. Rebound

**Here's part two! This one is over twice as long as the last, but don't let that trick you into thinking I support this pairing. I actually do not support a single pairing in this challenge. That's why it's called a _challenge_.**

My next time wasn't until almost a year later, and it still wasn't the boy I wanted.

I meant for it to happen. At least, I think I did. I'm not quite sure why, but for some reason my usual logical thinking was gone. I blame emotion. Honestly, it was more of a rebound from betrayal than making love. We don't have that kind of love.

...

I was pissed. Ron left just like that, just because I can't conjure food out of thin air to feed his sorry arse! Part of me so desperately wants him to come back, but the rest of me knows he's as good as dead the moment he does. He left me sobbing on the ground begging him to come back.

He had to walk no small distance to get out of the shields before he could Disapperate. At any time, he could have come to his senses and turned around. It would have been simple. The aftermath would have been strenuous, but we could have dealt. We always dealt with whatever was thrown our way by one of us. That's why Harry, Ron, and I were such good friends. Nothing could come between us. At least, nothing until Ron left.

I spent my nights bawling. After a while, I couldn't stand the looks Harry gave me in the morning so I cast a silencing spell on my bed. I think he knew I still cried, but he didn't ask and I didn't answer. We could have gone on that way forever if Harry hadn't changed our routine.

It was my night to search the woods while Harry went to the nearest muggle village in search of real food. He got back before I did and with quite a find.

"Harry Potter! Is that alcohol?" I demanded to know as I placed my hands on my hips.

He nodded and sniffed. "I'm sorry 'Mione," he said, not completely buzzed. "It was on sale and the man at the counter wasn't asking for I.D. I couldn't help myself."

I sighed and sat beside him. "How much have you had to drink?" I asked, more gently. I realized that Ron leaving couldn't have been easy for him either.

Harry motioned to the bottle. "Only this much," he insisted. I looked and he'd already had almost half the bottle. His words were surprisingly clear, especially considering how few oppertunities he'd had to drink in his life.

"Want some?" he asked.

"No thank you," I replied and pushed away the bottle he was holding out. I still only semi-remembered what had happened the last time I'd drank. I didn't particularly want a repeat with a strange muggle drink.

"If you say so," he shrugged and downed another gulp. "It's pretty good."

I sat with him until he was leaning on me for support. All of a sudden, he started crying.

"What's wrong, Harry?" I asked, encircling him with my arms.

He clung to me for dear life as he sobbed, "I wanna know where Ginny is. Where's Ron? Where's our friends?"

"There, there," I murmured, rubbing his back. "I'm sure they're all fine." I wasn't sure, but Harry didn't need to know that.

He muttered something to himself.

"What was that?" I asked, leaning closer to his face so I could hear better.

Harry did something that I never in a million years believed he would. He leaned over and kissed me. "I said, 'I want Ginny,'" he explained. "Will you be Ginny?"

My heart shrank in my chest. "But Harry," I pleaded, "I'm not Ginny. How can I be Ginny?"

He motioned to his wand. "Make yourself Ginny," he ordered. "Please..."

The pitiful look on his face made it hard to argue. What would it hurt if I had red hair for just a couple minutes. I transfigured my hair so it was straight and smooth, looking for all the world like Ginny Weasley's.

"Red," Harry ordered again.

"I'm getting there!" I snapped, wondering why I was doing this for him. As soon as my hair was lighter and brighter, Harry pounced on me. "What are you doing?" I demanded to know.

He had me pinned to the couch, which had me reminded of my night with Justin. I wasn't liking the similarities. Harry thrust his hands into my hair and brought his face closer. He buried his nose into it and inhaled deeply. He sighed, "You even smell like her."

"We use the same shampoo," I explained as I tried to wiggle away.

"Come back Ginny," he whispered, grabbing my arm as I slid away over to the chair. He maneuvered himself so he was underneath me sitting down. "Please baby," he murmured into my ear. "I had to leave you behind.. You need to understand."

"Harry," I warned. "I'm not Ginny." I tried to rise, but his arms held me firmly in place. "I know you're drunk, but don't be delusional. Ginny wouldn't want you to pretend like this if she were here."

He howled in anguish, and as I re-said my statement in my head I understood why. My wording was almost like she was dead.

"Harry," I insisted, twisting around to hug him. "It's okay. Ginny's at Hogwarts. She's safe."

He nodded and pulled me tighter. "Exactly Ginny, I did all of this to keep you safe. Please understand."

"Harry," I said firmly. "I do understand, but I'm not Ginny."

I don't even think he heard the second half of my sentence as his eyes lit up and he pulled me even closer, crushing my chest to his. "I knew you'd understand," he sighed happily. Then he once again pushed his lips against mine, this time with bruising strength.

"Harry!" I protested, pulling my mouth away.

"I love you baby," he whispered. "I need you."

I froze. Those were the words I'd hoped and prayed would come out of Ron's mouth. Well now there was zero chance of that happening and Harry was saying them. I tried to remember that they weren't meant for me and that he wasn't sober. But... He needed me.

"It's okay," I whispered back soothingly. "It's okay Harry."

My voice is nothing like Ginny's, but it did the same thing, making him light up and kiss me again.

I couldn't help it. I was sick and tired of spending my nights alone, wishing and wanting for Ron. Harry had done the same for Ginny. At least he knew she would undoubtingly take him back at the en of the war. Ron never truly left me in the first place. He left us. He left Harry and I. Well, he'd left us alone together and we were going to use each other as a rebound of the perceived wrongs committed against us by the youngest Weasley children.

It was Harry's first time. And he felt so guilty about it.

In the morning, when we awoke on the floor, Harry couldn't remember anything. I felt bad for him. That kind of first time sucks. I know.

"What did we do, Hermione?" he asked, covering himself from the blanket on his bed and turning away from me. As he did so, it hit me that for all intensive purposes, I'd just had sex with my brother. Harry was the closest friend I had and was as close as family. I suddenly felt incredibly guilty about my lack of hangover.

"We had sex, Harry," I told him honestly as I hurried put on a robe and pulled it closer. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it, but he hadn't been sober then.

"Oh my God!" he hissed, pacing about the room with the blanket draped around him like a toga. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" He slammed his fist into the writing desk in the corner of the room. "I was going to wait until marriage. I was going to wait for Ginny," his voice softened as he said his ex-girlfriend's name, and I was incredibly glad the spell on my hair had been temporary and worn off long before we woke up.

"Harry," I said, trying to comfort him. It was quite a bit harder than usual when I couldn't so much as pat him on the shoulder. This was going to be quite the strain in our friendship. "It's not your fault. We were drunk," I lied. No, it wasn't his fault. It was mine for having the decincy to stay sober and still have sex with him.

"This is a mess," he moaned. "What are we going to do? I'll never be able to look at Ginny the same the way again. I'll never be able to look any Weasley's in the eye." He glanced in my direction quickly before turning his back to me. "I won't be able to look at you."

That made my decision. Guiltiness was something I was already familiar with thanks to my night with Justin. I hated to add Harry to my pile of dirty little secrets, but something had to be done. Not even Harry could know.

"Obliviate!" I whispered, pointing my wand at his back.

He turned right as the spell hit him, and I watched his eyes fogged over and cleared up. He shook his head. "Hermione?" he asked, squinting at me in a sleepy way. "What's going on?"

"You were sleepwalking," I lied, hoping my excuse would be good enough. "You'd best go back to sleep."

He nodded and accepted my lies. "I didn't know I sleepwalked," he said, more to himself than me. "Interesting."

I waited until he was asleep before I dressed and cleaned up our mess from the night before.

...

What really broke my heat is that Harry woke up later and apologized for over-sleeping. My spell had apparently done a good job because he never mentioned it to me or even treated me differently. I was still just Hermione, nevermind what he'd become to me.

I went on acting as much the same as I could, and apparently it was enough to sell it. To this day, no one suspects.

**I can't help feel that Harry is majorly OOC, but I'll use "he's drunk" as my excuse.**


	3. Peace

**And I'm back for part 3! Enjoy! I'm sad to say the prompt on this one was stretching it a little. P.S. After thinking it over long and hard again, the rating is officially changing.**

After the biggest night of my life and over a year of stress and not knowing, all I wanted was peace. I wanted calm and tranquility. Does that sound anything like sex? I didn't think so.

...

"Hermione!" I turned at the sound of my name. I saw Ron barreling at me right before he pulled me into a bone-crushing hug. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"Ron," I gasped, fighting for air.

He let go just as I was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. With a huge grin, he pulled me close again and kissed me.

"What are you doing?" I demanded to know, face ablaze in a bright red blush.

Ron just grinned again and replied, "I'm showing all the single guys in the room what they can't have."

I glanced around and saw that many people around the Great Hall were indeed staring at us. "You've got your claim in, although I might add that I am not property," I reminded him quietly. "We can continue this later."

His face lit up at that. "I'm holding you to that promise, 'Mione," he promised.

We stayed together as we mingled around with the other survivors. When Harry came and found us, we asked no questions as we followed him out.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into my old bed up in Gryffindor. If only Ron hadn't had other plans.

"Come for a walk with me," he requested or, rather, ordered.

"Now?" I groaned. "Ron. I've been awake for over 36 hours. I just want to sleep."

"I know," he soothed. "I promised it will only be a short walk. We'll be in bed shortly."

Had I been slightly more awake, I might have noticed he said "in bed," not "sleeping." Instead, I let him take my hand and drag me away.

I dozed off on my feet and was jolted away when I realized we were nearly the Room of Requirements. I didn't want to go back in there. Not with Ron and not this soon.

"Ron..." I warned. "I don't-"

"Don't worry," he interrupted. "We won't do anything you don't want to."

Somehow I doubted that. I'd never been very good at saying no to Ron's requests. This was a perfect example. I'd wanted my bed and gone for a walk. I wanted to go back and I was going in.

Ron paced in front of the door a few times before a door appeared. I hung back for a second before he motioned for me to follow him in. I did.

The room was thankfully nothing like it had been last time I was in it. There was no fireplace and no couch. The room was small with only a lap, nightstand, and king-sized bed. The ceiling had a skylight that was unrealistic considering we weren't on the top floor. My guess was that Ron had thought nothing more than "I want a place to fuck Hermione."

I flinched at the thought. Ron must have noticed because he came up behind me and squeezed my arm. "Only what you want," he reaffirmed before leading me over to the bed. "I don't know what to do beyond that anyway." I think this is what let me loosen up. Lavender hadn't done _everything_ with him.

We kissed for a while as friction built up. I couldn't help myself; I wanted him. I made no noise of protest as he took off my shirt and let him lead me all the way through.

Ron was terrible. It hurt. Harry hadn't hurt, I thought with a twinge of guilt and regret. I couldn't let myself compare the two. It wasn't right and wasn't fair. I told myself Ron would get better. I could make him better.

"How was it?" Ron asked, grinning at me again.

I smiled, tearing myself away from my thoughts. "It was great," I told him and kissed his nose. My exhaustion washed back over me in a wave. "I think I need sleep now, though," I said and snuggled down against the bed.

Ron was surprisingly sweet afterwards. He lay back behind me and stroked my hair.

"That feels good," I murmured.

Ron muttered to himself. I don't think he expected me to hear or even to be listening. "Who knew Lavender wasn't the only one who likes this afterwards? I guess she did teach me something."

I rolled over quickly. "Excuse me?" I demanded. "You said you hadn't done anything with her!"

Ron blinked a couple times, face coloring rapidly. "Now Hermione," he stuttered. "I'm sure that's not _exactly_ what I said."

He really shouldn't try to pull those kinds of things with a girl of my logical analysis. "You said you wouldn't know what to do if we had sex. You lied to me!"

"Please Hermione," he begged. "Don't be like this. Surely you knew I wouldn't wait given the opportunity. Think of her as experience."

"_Experience_!" I shrieked. "You pig-headed, sex-brained bastard!" I jumped out of bed shouting more insults. It was completely hypocritical of me. He'd had sex with his girlfriend of several months. I'd had _two_ one-nighters, one of which was with our best friend. I had no right to be nearly as pissed as I was. It didn't change anything.  
>"Come on, Hermione," Ron pleaded. "So it wasn't my first time. Big deal. It was yours. Didn't you say it as wonderful?"<p>

That just fueled me on more. "Ronald," I seethed. "I _lied_! No girl's first time is 'wonderful!' The first time _hurts_!" I wasn't lying to him exactly. I just wasn't telling him that wasn't my first. Oh Hell, might as well. It would help get my point across.

"Besides Ronald," I hissed. "That _wasn't_ my first."

I thought he was going to fall over. "What?" he asked. "That's not possible! You're lying! It had to be you first time! It was just like the first time with Lavender and she was a virgin."

I laughed dryly. "Oh Ron," I chided. "She lied too. If it was like this, I can promise you it wasn't her first."

I redressed and headed for the door. "Where are you going?" Ron demanded.

I sighed. "Ron," I told him. "I'm leaving. A fight like this can't be fixed. It will always be between us that you lied to me and that our first time ended like this. We won't work."

I left. I walked out just as I promised I would. I went straight to my room - thankfully my bed was empty - and collapsed onto it. I cast a silencing charm around it as I drew my curtains closed. There was nothing left for me to do but cry.

...

I cried off and on for days. Peace had finally come to the wizarding world, but it hadn't come to me. The future I had planned for myself wasn't going to work. I'd wanted to be an auror, but I needed something with more stability and less fighting. I'd wanted to marry Ron and live happily ever after, but we obviously are not going to do anything of the sort.

I took my N.E.W.T.S. test and passed with almost all O's, despite not going through my seventh year at Hogwarts. That summer I started my training to become a healer. It was a way to help people without having to worry about almost being killed every time I went on a mission. Besides, Harry and Ron were becoming aurors.

By fall, I considered myself well over Ron. It was official: Hermione Granger was on the market in mind, heart, and body. Perhaps with a little emphasis on body.


	4. Return

While my lack of love life was a bit dimming, the world was full of hopefulness and light. The last thing I needed was darkness.

...

Diagon Alley was starting to brighten up. Ollivander's was open again, along with restaurants, robe shops, and the old pet places. As much as light shines in the darkness, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was still the center of attention even with the rest of the alley aglow.

"Hello 'Mione!" George said brightly as I entered his shop. Many had assumed George would keep the joke shop closed down for at least a few weeks to mourn Fred. We all should have known that wouldn't have been his way. The twins were all about laughter, and George reopened immediately. I suspect the laughter and smiles constantly flowing through WWW helped him cope and reminded him that he and Fred had opened the place with a mission: to cheer people up.

"Hello George," I replied. "How's business?"

He grinned. "It's doing better than ever!" he exclaimed. "During the war, people needed a laugh." I felt a small pang in my heart as I remembered the last person I'd heard say that. "Now, they're happy and excited, prime for pranking!"

I laughed, "I'd scold you for all of the items you've, no doubt, helped smuggle into Hogwarts, but since I'm not there anymore, I suppose it's not my problem."

His grin slacked ever so slightly. "Are you sad you didn't finish school?"

"A little," I admitted, "but I've taken my exit exams and am an official Hogwarts graduate. Besides, you didn't finish either."

"But that was entirely my own decision," he insisted.

"Made thanks to that monster, Umbridge," I countered.

He chuckled. "Well, maybe." He wiped his hands as though dusting away the subject. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Before I could answer, a large boom!sounded from the backroom. George bit his lip. "Uh oh... Um, Hermione? I'm going to have to go check what that was. I'll bet it was the little experiment I've set up for miniature blast-ended newts."

"What?" He paid me no heed as he rushed to the back of his store. I sighed. Hopefully whatever explosion had taken place would him off the idea of becoming a mini-Hagrid.

I glanced at the shelves around me to amuse myself before movement caught my eye. I spied Dean Thomas coming from the backroom looking rather harried. He hurried over to the counter and stood behind it.

"Hello Dean," I greeted as I walked over to him.

"Hello," he replied.

"I didn't know you worked here," I said.

He nodded. "And for now, I'm stuck up here until George can figure out where the other three newts went.

I shuddered involuntarily.

Dean saw my movement and laughed. "That's exactly why I said I'd come up here, rather than go looking for them," he explained. Changing the subject, he asked, "So, what can I do for you?"

I reached down to pull the small pouch from my pocket. "I'd like to return this Instant Darkness Powder," I said. "Here's the receipt."

Dean took the pouch from me and asked, "Is there any particular reason you're returning it? Any malfunctions?"

I shook my head and replied, "No, I just don't need it. With the war over, I feel just as safe without it. I can be almost certain I don't need it."

"Makes sense," he commented. He placed the powder back in the larger supply and returned to me the pouch and the money I'd spent. "You know," he said, leaning forward, putting his weight on the counter, "I haven't really seen you much since Shell Cottage. Perhaps we could get coffee and talk later?"

I smiled, "It's a date."

He smirked, "Well I didn't really mean it as a date as much as friends hanging out, but I suppose a date can do." He winks to let me know he's kidding about the 'I suppose.' "I get off around 4 today if you want to come back then."

"Well I've got some shopping to do," I told him. It was true. I desperately needed new dress robes. Being a war hero meant that I got invited to every party thrown by the ministry, Gringotts, or any member of the general public who happened to have met me at one point in time.

"See you later," Dean said with a wave.

"See you," I echoed, walking out the door.

I continued on with my shopping. When I was done, I sat outside the newly reopened ice cream parlor and just people-watched. George had been right; people were more vibrantly alive than ever. Diagon Alley was nothing like the melancholy shadow it had been during the war.

At quarter to four, I strolled back towards WWW. I was day dreaming a bit and ran, literally, into a man who had once made my life hell.

"Watch it Granger!" he snapped, brushing himself off.

My temper flared at the echo of old routine. "Sorry to have dirtied your path!" I snapped back.

His eyes instantly flashed, hardening and then melting into a soft sort of morose I'd never seen from him. "The war is over," he said quietly. "I don't think like that anymore. Out there... I learned that a body is a body, whether it be muggle, bloodtraitor, or deatheater."

I never thought I'd see the day when those words came out of Draco Malfoy's mouth. "I... apologize," I replied uncertainly. "I seem to have jumped to conclusions."

With that I hurried on, slightly confusing and amazed a person could truly was nothing but hope in the world.

As I approached the joke shop, I saw a figure slip out the door. He looked towards me and hurriedly slouched against the door, as though he'd been there forever.

"Ready for our date," he asked coyly with a wink.

"Nice try, George," I laughed, "but I don't recall arranging a date with you."

Dean chose that moment to come outside. He glanced at George and then at me before saying, "George! Are you trying to steal one of my dates again?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "This happen a lot?" I asked.

George snorted. "Hardly," he replied. "The boy never gets a date!" He gave me a sarcastically sincere smile. "It's good of you to take on such a lost cause, Hermione."

Dean slapped in on the side of the head - the side without an ear. "That's enough out of you!" he barked. After he pushed George through the door (the latter making kissy noises the entire time), he turned to me and said, "I know a great little wizarding cafe in Godric's Hollow. Care to Side-Along?"

I took the arm he held out and immediately felt the familiar squeeze of Apparation. As my feet hit the ground, I tried to remove my hand from his arm. Dean reached over with his other hand to trap mine there.

He smiled coyly. "We are on a date, after all," he said as explanation.

I chuckled and looped my arm through his wedding-style. "So we are," I answered.

Dean led me out of the room we were in (he explained that the cafe had placed it there specifically for Apparation) and into the cafe itself. We ordered, Dean choosing coffee and I vying for hot chocolate since it was so late in the day.

Once we had our drinks, we chose a table in the back of the room, away from the small crowd of people by the windows. I received a few looks from others in the room, but when you're an important war hero, it comes with the territory.

"So what have you been up to lately?" Dean asked after we'd each had a sip.

"Well, I went back to Hogwarts for my exit exams and enrolled in the Healer training program. A year from now, I should I should have all my qualifications."

Dean and I then got into an animated discussion about magic, medicine, and their connection. He told me that his father was a muggle doctor, and until he'd gotten his Hogwarts letter, he'd planned to do the same. "Once I got to school, I wanted to do everything," he confessed. "I wasn't spectacular in any of my classes, but I fared well. It wasn't until my sixth year that I decided I wanted to focus on my art. I talked to Flitwick, and he pointed me to a few charm books that were all about charming ink, parchment, and other art supplies. I learned how to make what's basically a muggle cartoon strip, except it's all done on one moving piece of parchment.

"When the war came, I wasn't too terribly concerned about missing my seventh year. Sure, NEWTS are important, but even an O in charms wasn't going to propel me too far in art. As you know, I ran. Most muggleborns did. We managed to stay under the radar until until our run in with Greyback and you guys."

"I am sorry about that," I cut in.

He shook his head. "Don't be. Thanks to that, I would up at Shell Cottage, and then another safe house. It was safer and smarter than being out and about."

"Did you take your exams after the war?" I asked.

"Nope," Dean replied. "I went straight out to find work. While people were happier and jobs needed to be filled, no one was looking for artists. If they were, they wanted people with experience, not some kid who hadn't finished school. I almost went back to McGonagall to see if I could take my NEWTS. Before I'd made my decision on whether or not I needed to, I saw the Help Wanted sign outside George's shop.

"He was looking for someone to help out around the shop. He told me that everyone whom he'd interviewed had 'big ideas' for new products and store locations. George wasn't ready to expand, nor was he ready for an equal in decisions. I was willing to take only the job requirements so he gave it to me on the spot. I had no interests in prank designs, nor do I now."

"So you've been helping around the shop since this summer?" I asked.

"That's right," he replied. "After about two weeks, George saw a few of my doodles in the back room and asked me to start designing product logos and packaging art work. I was in heaven! I could create pretty much anything to do with a product, charming it within whatever art spells I pleased, as long as it was inexpensive for George to mass produce. It has its dangers, as you saw with the mini blast-ended newts, but overall, it's a cushy job with a good environment."

"Sounds like you've found your niche," I commented.

Dean smiled. "So I have," he agreed.

I glanced up to the front of the store, and my face fell in confusion. Dean saw my frown and turned. He turned back in surprise.

"How is it that dark already?" he asked.

"I have absolutely no idea," I replied with a shrug. "You must just be good company," I teased.

He chuckled and glanced at his watch. "It's only 7:30," he said before looking up at me. "Would you like to come back to my place to have dinner?"

"I'd like that," I responded, standing to take his arm. We returned to the Apparation room and Dean whisked me off to his place.

"Please excuse the mess," he said, hurrying around the kitchen to put places and such in the sink. "I had a, ah, friend stop by last night."

"Anyone I know?" I asked coyly as I leaned against the door frame.

Dean glanced over at me and smiled. "No one important," he reassured me. "Just had Seamus over. We haven't seen each other in a while and decided to catch up when he came into the joke shop yesterday."

"Do you always invite home the old friends that come to the joke shop?" I teased.

My host turned rose red and hastily said, "No, hardly ever!"

I stepped forward and put my hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Dean," I said. "I'm only teasing."

He smiled, "Of course you are." He turned away and opened a cupboard. "Now, I've been told I make the most amazing spaghetti."

So that was what we had for supper. While Dean cooked, I sat at the breakfast bar and we continued to talk. When the pasta and sauce were finished, he set it on the counter in front of me.

"No use walking all the way to the table," he said. "Oops!" Dean exclaimed, hopping up from his seat. "I forgot the garlic bread."

"We can do without," I told him. "This looks fabulous anyway."

"Well, if you're sure," he replied.

I told him I was, and we ate. While conversation continued, I noticed that Dean seemed distracted.

As I finished my last bite of spaghetti, I finally asked, "Is something the matter?"

"What?" Dean jerked his head up. "No, nothing! Whatever made you ask?"

I bit my lip and replied, "Well, you're just not here like you were earlier."

Dean sighed and looked down. When he looked up again, I could see the determination in his eyes. "Will you stay the night, Hermione?"

"Well, um..." I tried to speak,, but I was too flabbergasted to form a complete sentence. "Dean," I finally said, "that's not the type of request I typically get on the first date."

Dean's face was plenty red again. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that... Seamus was here last night."

"So you told me," I replied, wondering where this was going.

Dean sighed, "I invited him over as friends, but... He's gay."

"Oh." I'd had absolutely no idea Seamus Finnegan was gay, but I still didn't see how that affected me or Dean's invitation.

"We were drinking," Dean admitted, "and things didn't exactly go as planned. Seamus pulled me towards him and told me he'd fancied me since fifth year. When I protested, he told me we could really have something. Then he kissed me." Dean got a far-away look in his eye, as though he'd forgotten I was even in the room.

"I didn't expect it," he continued. "I'd like to blame the alcohol for my irrational thinking, but I think most of it was stun and surprise. I didn't protest. I didn't protest when Seamus deepened the kiss and had his tongue in my mouth. I didn't protest when he started running his hands over my shoulders and chest. I didn't protest when he pulled off our robes. I didn't protest untilhe had me down to my boxers and had his hands around my..." Dean trailed off, reddening again and apparently remembering I was their. "Until he had me... compromised."

Dean sent me a pleading look. "But Hermione, I liked it. I'm not gay! Please, I need you to help me prove it."

His tone and look were so pitiful I couldn't say no.

"I'll help you," I replied, voice getting husky. "If it's a woman you want, it's a woman you've got." With that, I stood up from my chair as eased myself forward onto his lap. Our agreement was sealed with a kiss.

...

About a week later, Dean sent me an owl asking me to meet him at that cafe. We once again sat at a table in the back, away from the crowd. Despite the fact that no one could hear us, Dean spoke in a low voice. He explained to me that I had helped him prove he wasn't gay. He was and Seamus came out as a couple the very next day. About a month later, I heard they'd moved in together.

I'd gone to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to return Darkness Powder and ended up returning the roommate status of two men I'd gone to Hogwarts with.

It was the first date I'd gone on since my encounter with Ron (who still wasn't talking to me), and it had ended with my date coming out of the closet. As if my self-esteem wasn't battered enough.

I'm not giving up hope yet, though. If anything, my experience with Dean proved that I could do casual sex. While it was not my preferred goal for life, it meant I had that much more to gain from letting go of expectations and just sowing my oats. I had no idea where their might crop up.


	5. Apples

**Last chapter! I should be working on One of the Boys since that's due in 11 days and I have 5 one-shots left, but that's all I've been working on in my spare time the last couple of days. To take my mind off it, I wrote the rest of this chapter. :)**

With the stress of one of my best friends no longer talking to me and the time constraint of my Healer training, I wasn't going out and having fun. Some girls choose finding a man and making a family over a career, but those girls aren't me. I wanted to go out, really I did, but Ginny and Harry were busy planning their wedding, Luna was in Africa, and my new girl friends from the Healer program were just as time-constricted as I was. No one was forcing me to go out so I didn't.

Finding a man could wait.

...

"Well Crookshakes," I said to my aging feline friend. "What should we have for supper?"

He meowed at me in response and looked expectantly at the refrigerator.

I shook my head. "Sorry boy, there's no meat in there."

His cat eyes narrowed at me.

"I'm sorry!" I snapped. "I need to go shopping, but for now there's not so much as a slice of ham to be found. You'll have to settle for cat food." I turned my back on him and turned towards the counter. "We know what you're going to have, but what about me?"

I dug around in my cupboards searching for something edible. "This is ridiculous!" I sighed in exasperation. Every can I picked up was just passed its expiration date. I knew I'd been eating out a lot lately, but I hadn't realized just how much. "Ah ha!" I called triumphantly as I opened the fridge door and spotted an apple in the fruit drawer.

Showing more nimbleness than he had in years, Crookshakes leaped from the floor to the kitchen table into my arms. I just barely caught him, and I dropped the apple in the process. "Crookshakes!" I exclaimed, all but tossing him to the floor.

He landed in a heap and twitched his ears in annoyance as he walked out of my kitchen and away from my now dented dinner.

I sighed at the size of the bruise on my apple. Just perfect. The only edible thing in the house besides my cat, who was starting to look a little tempting, was now not a very good option. Apparently my shopping would have to come sooner, rather than later.

I picked up my wand and used it to toss out what little old food I had left before setting off for Diagon Alley. A new produce market had just opened and, although the prices were a little high, the fruits and vegetables were all apperated in so they were fresher than anything at a muggle market.

I was browsing through the apples and oranges when I ran into Neville.

"Hello, Hermione," he said cheerfully. "How are you?"

"Hungry," I replied with a small laugh.

He frowned at the price sign next to me. "At these prices, you'll stay that way. I just came by to sniff around. At Hogwarts, there's an entire greenhouse dedicated to these plants."

"Really? I don' remember that."

"It's new," he replied, swelling with pride. "We're trying to branch out the variety of plants since many species were damaged during the Battle of Hogwarts. The students are gaining a larger scope of plant information than ever before. The seventh years even take a couple days to go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to gain samples of and identify the plants they find." Neville stopped talking very suddenly, as though realizing he how he was going on.

"Sounds fascinating," I replied genuinely. "How big is the non-magical greenhouse?"

"On the outside, it looks the same as the others, but it's been enchanted to expand internally whenever necessary. Would you like to see it?"

"I'd love to, but I really should do my shopping while I'm here."

Neville waved his hand dismissively. "You're a war hero."

"So were you," I pointed out.

"But we can use that as an excuse if anyone asks why I'm allowing you to pick whatever produce you like."

"Oh Neville, I couldn't-"

"I insist," he replied with a smile. "Besides, how can you appreciate the greenhouse without tasting the delectable produce it grows?"

Feeling slightly out-talked, I allowed Neville to apperate me to Hogsmeade. After he forced fruit into my hands - or rather, my beaded bag - he talked me into dinner. It had been a long time since I'd had Hogwarts' food so I caved. We had several casual dates of this sort before we went out to a formal restaurant in wizarding London. Afterwards, Neville spent the night with me.

"Really Hermione, I'm fine sleeping on the couch," he assured me.

I frowned. "Neville, you're staying because it's late and you'd have to talk from Hogsmeade to the school. What kind of host would I be if I made you sleep on the couch?"

"Well it's your house. I'm not kicking you out of your own bed!"

"This flat only has one bedroom. Unless you're suggesting we share, one of us is out on the couch."

I realized what I'd implied and opened my mouth to correct it, but I was stopped by the quirk of Neville's eyelid. "I must say, Hermione, I never expected you to be the one to rush this step in a relationship."

I blushed, but I'm not ashamed to say what happened next. Neville did sleep in my bed with me, and we did have sex. Our relationship was great for a couple months, making it the only real relationship I'd ever had. After a while, we started to grow apart. Ginny assumed we'd been fighting when I told her about our break up, but it wasn't. We just didn't have any fireworks. It was possible that Neville and I could have married and had a perfectly acceptable life together.

But that wasn't the kind of people we were. Both of us wanted something truly fiery and meaningful, much more than what we had.

...

It was only after that I realized Neville was the fifth man in my bed in three years. I never wanted to be one of those girls who has so many boys in such a short amount of time. Still, part of me knows that this little game isn't ending soon. If I can't stop playing, I might as well have fun with it.

"Hello Malfoy. This formality is getting a bit tiring. Can I call you Draco?"


End file.
